


we don't sleep (but we like sleeping in)

by allthefadinglights



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula 2 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthefadinglights/pseuds/allthefadinglights
Summary: Callum gets flown in at the last minute to drive an F1 race. The team forgets to book him a hotel room.
Relationships: Marcus Armstrong/Callum Ilott
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	we don't sleep (but we like sleeping in)

**Author's Note:**

> The ever classic and cliché 'there's only one bed' trope. Figured I'd do some popular tropes while I'm at it. Please don't get used to me posting this much, it's really now just because I'm feeling under the weather and have some free time on my hands. I'm currently in a big Mallum mood, so Schulott's going to have to wait until I'm feeling that again.
> 
> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading my fics, leaving kudos and commenting. It means the world to me, and it keeps me motivated to write and post more. I'm terrible at replying to comments in a timely fashion, but know that I read all of them, multiple times.

It had been one hell of a week. At the last minute, Callum was called in to replace Sainz at Ferrari - making his very first F1 debut without ever having done a single free practice. He’d get his first taste of F1 in qualifying, arriving too late for third free practice as he had to be tested before being allowed into the paddock as well. It had been a stressful day, and he hadn’t even gotten to the garage yet. He barely has time to check his phone, seeing some good luck wishes from friends and family, before being ushered into the paddock and straight towards the Ferrari hospitality. It’s chaotic, as it usually is with the Italian team, but now even more so than usual. 

Callum gets into the car with three minutes to spare before there will be a green light at the end of the pitlane, feeling very numb to what’s happening around him. He knows the Baku street circuit quite well, thankfully - having raced here before in 2019, though that weekend didn’t exactly go well - so he knows his way around the track at the very least. His engineer reassures him they have no high expectations of him, he doesn’t have to drag his car into a high qualifying position because they know this is his first actual F1 session. He’s still determined to do well, however. He wants to show what he can do, it might help his chances to secure a seat for next season. 

Qualifying flies by, Callum taking all the track time he can get and interchanging hot laps with cool down laps to see how far he can push the car, without risking a visit into the wall in the castle section. He makes it through to Q2, and then Q3, and finally qualifies in P6, not too far behind his teammate. He can hear the team celebrating in the back when his engineer tells him he’s done a fantastic job, and even Binotto comes into the garage the second Callum is out of the car to tell him well done. When everything is done and over with, having been dragged into a briefing to discuss Sunday’s strategy, Callum finally gets a moment to himself to sit and breathe. It’s been an insane 12 hours, catching a last minute flight to Azerbaijan and hopping straight into the car, and he needs some peace and quiet to process. 

When he feels like he’s ready to face the paddock and all possible journalists wandering around there, he calls the FDA boss - who is still technically his boss, even for this weekend - to ask for his hotel details so he can get out of here and sleep. 

“Uh,” he gets in reply. 

“Uh what?”

“We may have forgotten to book you a room and everything’s full.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Callum groans. “Where am I gonna sleep, the garage floor?”

“No, no, I’m sure we can arrange something for you. I’ll get to work and text you when I have something, alright?” 

Callum lies back down on the tiny sofa in Sainz’s driver room - his for the weekend, though the Spanish flag tells another story - when the call ends, rubbing a hand over his face. They forgot to book him a room. He flies all the way out here at the last second for them, and they forget to find him a place to sleep. Fantastic. He opens Twitter, hoping it’ll entertain him until he gets the information he needs, scrolling through the many tweets he’s received today. Most of them are all compliments and well-wishes, and it boosts his ego a little. He did put a Ferrari into P6 on his debut. Opening Instagram, the first thing he sees is Marcus on the top step of the F2 podium, eyes raised to the sky and his hair a mess as the New Zealand anthem plays for him. Callum grins, switching to his messaging app to open Marcus’ texts. Marcus has already texted him a few things, the most recent one being a lot of excited emojis.

_welcome to the f2 race winners club_

**ohhh mr ferrari driver lives**

Callum’s too tired to text anything more so he just presses the call button instead. “You won a feature race,” is what he says to Marcus, forgoing any type of greeting - this is just how they usually communicate. 

“You made it into Q3,” Marcus replies, excitement obvious in his voice. “But yes, I won a race. It was insane, I’ll catch you up to speed later. Don’t imagine you’ve had the time to watch it.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Callum says, “I was on a plane, I think.”

“It’s fine,” Marcus reassures him, “you have a really good excuse.” It makes Callum chuckle. “Wanna get dinner in a bit?”

“Yeah, I’m just waiting to hear where my hotel room is. They forgot to book me a room.” 

Marcus makes an indignant noise. “They didn’t. That’s ridiculous. Hang on, someone’s calling me. I’ll text you for dinner.” 

Callum finally receives a text from his FDA boss with a hotel name and room number soon after, rolling off the sofa with a groan and heading out of the paddock with his suitcase. He’s very much ready to lie down in a comfortable bed before he has to meet Marcus for dinner. He receives his key card at the hotel reception, barely taking notice of whatever the friendly girl is telling him because he’s tired and he wants to sleep. The room is on the first floor, so he doesn’t have to go very far. But when he unlocks the door and steps inside, someone’s already there. Marcus.

“Hi,” Marcus says, confused. “I thought we were meeting for dinner later, not now.”

“This is my room?” Callum says, questioning tone to it, taking note of Marcus’ stuff lying around, and the bed is unmade - clearly Marcus has been sleeping here. “I have a key card.”

“No, this is my room. Do you think there’s been a mix-up somewhere?”

“This is the room number I was registered to, or I wouldn’t have gotten a key card at the reception. I’ll call to ask.” Callum leaves his suitcase by the door, sinking down on the bed and wanting nothing more than to take a short nap. Instead, he has to fix this weird mess. A quick call to their FDA boss clears things up. Or rather, it makes things more complicated, because they decided he could room with Marcus since it’d only be for two nights. Apparently all the rooms were in use, even the ones with a single bed. “I guess we’re going to be sharing,” Callum sighs when he hangs up, having put the call on speaker phone for Marcus to hear. “I’m sorry to intrude on your privacy, but I’m really tired and I would really like to nap before dinner.”

“No, it’s fine. They should apologise, not you. I’ve been sleeping on the left side so the right is all yours,” Marcus tells him. “We just have to share the bed for two nights, are you okay with that?”

“Not like I have much of a choice, but yeah. I’m glad it’s you, at least. Rooming with Robert sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Marcus chuckles. Callum’s used to having Marcus around, though not in his bedroom, so despite the possible awkwardness they’re going to run into with the double bed, it could’ve been a lot worse. “I’m gonna take a nap if you don’t mind, I’ve had one hell of a day.” He notices Marcus’ trophy from today on the dresser together with the bottle of champagne, and takes mental note to ask Marcus about the race over dinner. He’s asleep the second his head hits the pillow, not noticing Marcus smiling softly at him.

“Callum,” someone says quietly, gently shaking him by his arm. “You gotta wake up, it’s time for dinner.” Callum groans, flings an arm over his face and realises it’s Marcus sitting on the edge of the bed. “You don’t wanna fuck up your sleep schedule by sleeping through the evening.” He knows Marcus is right, but that doesn’t make it anymore fun to wake up. 

“Can I take a shower before we go?” He cracks one eye open to see Marcus nod, getting up to go back to the chair across the room where he’s presumably been the entire time Callum was asleep. They’re out the door fifteen minutes later, finding a small restaurant across the street for dinner. Marcus tells him about the F2 race, eyes bright as he recounts his overtakes to score a win, having started from P5. It lifts Callum’s mood, hearing Marcus so enthusiastic about his race. He knows he had a rough season last year, having started well but then just disappearing into the midfield. He’s currently second in the standings, but Baku is only the third round of their season. Callum has faith in him, though. Marcus is nothing if not persistent. 

It’s always easy, talking to Marcus. They’ve known each other for years, lived together for almost as long, and Callum can confidently say there’s not a lot he doesn’t know about Marcus. Dinner passes quickly and they’re back at the hotel soon after. “Sleep?” Marcus suggests. “We both have races tomorrow. I still can’t believe you’re actually going to do a real race in F1. In a Ferrari, too. That’s just insane.”

“It is,” Callum agrees. “Still feel like I’m gonna wake up any second to find myself back in the sim.” 

“You deserve this,” Marcus says quietly. “This race, to show what you’re capable of. A full-time seat.”

“If I do well tomorrow it’ll work in my favour,” Callum says. “And you have a sprint race to win.”

Marcus laughs. “Yeah, right. I’m starting P8, there’s no way I can overtake that much on a street circuit. There’s only one convenient place to get past someone.”

“The race is more than eight laps,” Callum grins. Marcus shoulder-checks him gently, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for bed. It’s weird, crawling under the covers in a bed he’s sharing with Marcus a few minutes later. 

“I’ve been told I have no concept of personal space when I’m asleep,” Marcus mumbles. Callum turns over on his side to look at him. “Apologies if you wake up with me in your immediate proximity.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, that. Callum passes out rather quickly, listening to Marcus’ even breathing. He wakes up to a rising sun and Marcus’ head on his chest. It’s only six in the morning and he doesn’t wanna wake Marcus, but this is a bit too close for comfort. Wriggling out from underneath him is not an option, considering Marcus is practically half on top of him, one leg wedged between Callum’s. Going back to sleep is also not an option, because his body is automatically responding to having someone this close to him. This really isn’t the best time to be having a ‘shit, I might be into my best friend’ crisis, and yet, here he is. Waking Marcus is no longer an option either, because there’s no way he’s not going to notice that Callum is hard against his thigh. Fuck.

He doesn’t get a chance to decide what to do, because Marcus stirs, presses his thigh to Callum’s body a bit harder. He has to bite his tongue not to make a sound, closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. “I know you’re awake, your heart rate is way too high to be sleeping,” Marcus says sleepily. “Why are you awake? It’s too early.”

“Sunlight woke me up,” Callum replies, trying to stay as still as possible. Marcus doesn’t seem to be moving back to his own side of the bed anytime soon. Right, he’s just going to have to push Marcus off and make a run for it to the bathroom to sort himself out in the shower. He’s gathering courage to push Marcus off of him, who’s still looking at him with sleepy eyes. Callum stills, however, when Marcus moves his leg again. And again. He squeezes his eyes shut and summons every ounce of willpower he has to stop himself from grinding against Marcus. 

“’s Okay,” Marcus whispers in his ear, breath hot. “It’s not just you.” Callum can’t stop himself any longer, letting out a whine as Marcus grinds down against his thigh, not fully hard yet but getting there. Callum’s producing more sounds, but he finds them being muffled when Marcus presses his lips to his. “Is this okay?”

Callum groans. “Yeah. Definitely is.” Marcus kisses him deeper, shifting his weight to be fully hovering over him now. Callum’s legs bracket his hips, easing the way for Marcus to start moving his hips faster, and giving Callum leverage to push up against him. The sounds Marcus is making only make Callum more desperate, sliding his hands down Marcus’ sides to pause at the waistband of his boxers. Neither of them were wearing a shirt to begin with - it’s way too hot in Baku this time of year to be fully dressed while sleeping. “Can I?” he breathes into Marcus’ mouth, who nods, starts pressing kisses to Callum’s neck as Callum pulls his boxers down. Marcus has to lift his hips to help him get them down, and he lets out a loud moan when Callum gets a hand on his cock. “Shh, it’s six in the morning,” he whispers to Marcus, kissing him again to shut him up.

“Less talking, more _moving_ ,” Marcus groans. Callum doesn’t wait around, jerking Marcus off the best he can with his hand trapped between their bodies. He swallows most of Marcus’ sounds, can’t wait to get him back to their own place so he can really see how loud Marcus can get- Fuck. He wants to do this again. “Close,” Marcus gasps, hips jerking. Callum just tightens his grip, drinks in the sight of Marcus so close to his release - and so close to him. Marcus bites down on Callum’s shoulder to silence himself as he comes, spilling between their bodies and over Callum’s hand. “Fuck.” 

Marcus barely takes the time to regain his senses, rolling off him and shoving his boxers down, hand flying to Callum’s cock. Callum closes his eyes as Marcus jerks him off hard and fast, getting close when suddenly Marcus’ hand is gone. “What-?” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Marcus presses his tongue to the underside of his cock. Now Callum’s the one being loud, has Marcus shushing him before he takes the head in his mouth, taking more in every time he goes down. “Marcus,” he gasps out, threading his fingers through Marcus’ hair. Marcus pulls off, looking absolutely wrecked, and replaces his mouth with his hand. Two, three more strokes and Callum comes, his pulse loud in his ears as he rides it out, Marcus gently stroking him through it. He lets go when it gets too much for Callum, presses kisses to his shoulder. “What did we just do?” Callum whispers, wrapping an arm around Marcus and keeping him close.

“Well, I just sucked your dick and had a really good orgasm, I don’t know what you were doing,” Marcus replies, his tone light. 

Callum huffs out a laugh. “I know that much, I meant _what are we doing_ , getting each other off at six in the morning.” He has no regrets, has subconsciously wanted this for a long time. Marcus is still pressed closely against him so Callum assumes he doesn’t regret it either. “I don’t regret it,” he adds belatedly. “Just in case that was up in the air. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

“I could never regret this,” Marcus says. “Not when I’ve wanted it for ages. Guess they were onto something rooming us together huh.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think this was the outcome the FDA had in mind, us getting each other off. They do say you race better after sex, so I guess we’ll find out.” Marcus buries his face in Callum’s shoulder as he laughs. “Marcus?” Marcus lifts his head to look at him. “I think I wanna do this a lot more often.”

Marcus smiles at him. “Me too.”

Marcus ends up finishing the sprint race in P2. Callum gets his first ever F1 podium.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are much appreciated!


End file.
